


Upgrades

by Fightyourdragon



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new Aston Martin Q designed has a few tricks up her sleeve. Q gives James a demonstration. Obligatory new-car porn. Let the Spectre fanfic begin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upgrades

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hedwig_Dordt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedwig_Dordt/gifts).



> This fic flowed so easily, clearly I'm already inspired by just the preview of Spectre : ) This is also a gift fic for my best friend and beta reader Hedwig_Dordt, who is having a sad few days. All the hugs honey, since you are across an ocean the gift of smut is the best I can offer for comfort!

James checks his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes as he paces in his rarely-used office, waiting for exactly 20:00 because Q is a stickler for punctuality. He straightens his tie again, and smooths his hands pointlessly down the front of his immaculately pressed trousers. Then, shrugging off the rare sensation of genuine puzzlement, re-reads the cryptic text:

I have something to show you, meet me in room 297 at 20:00. You’re going to love it. Feel free to show me exactly how much.

Well, the second sentence is abundantly clear. So clear, in fact, that he has to adjust his pants a bit for comfort at what for Q is a blatant come-on. As gloriously controlling and confident Q is in private- okay he’s always that way, but somehow his owlishly sweet public persona makes most people somehow fail to realize he’s making them dance like a puppet on a string- he’s not generally demanding in his written communications with James. But this- oh, this is going to be good. Q obviously has something specific and likely devilishly clever in mind.

At 19:58 exactly James makes his way down to the basement where the shooting range and other rooms allocated for the more volatile trial runs of new tech are located. Room 237 is particularly large, so whatever Q has created it must be impressive indeed. At exactly 20:00 he swipes his card and then runs the retinal scan, and steps into the room precisely on time with a satisfied smirk on his face. He’s already doing well, and Q rewards things like that.

The room is dark, and before his eyes can even adjust Q steps out of seemingly nowhere and places a hand over James’ eyes. He shivers at the display of stealth.

“No peeking, now. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise,” Q states, his quiet lilting voice holding just the hint of teasing. “You’re right on time. I like that in an agent,” he purrs, running a single finger down the flap of material covering the zipper of James’ trousers before reaching out to take James’ hand and lead him away, trusting his eyes will remain closed.

James sucks in a shaky breath, secure in the knowledge that Q likes to hear just how affected he is by even such a small amount of contact. He allows himself to be lead, sinking slowly into the mental space of _This. Now. Q. Only Q._ He can’t pinpoint the exact moment when things shifted, when they went from that first meeting in the museum to this, but he’s glad they’re here now. Even early on, James found himself gravitating towards the, self-assured competence Q displayed when directing James on missions. The newbie act was just that- an act. “Oh, there you are, I see you. Put your back into it.” Little phrases designed to make James react, stay alert, focus on Q’s ridiculousness not the stress of the moment. As a tactic is was unorthodox, but it definitely worked.

“Where did you go, Cielo?” Q asks, stopping to reach out and tap James gently on the nose. “I want you here with me.”

“Nowhere. Still with you. I was just thinking about how we became us,” James replies, eyes still dutifully closed. He smiles at the endearment. _Cielo_. Q speaks Spanish, and he started calling James that in intimate moments early on, something about his eyes being blue as the sky, and Cielo meaning sky but also heaven. It’s almost too sweet, but something in James can’t bear to ask Q to stop. Besides, he secretly loves it.

“Good. Come back to the present now though, if you would. I have something to show you.” Q does something and the lights come on.

“Can I look?” James knows better than to open his eyes before instructed.

“Please,” Q asks.

When he opens his eyes, for a moment James actually forgets to breathe. It’s like something that only happens in movies, really, but he can hardly help it as he takes in the sleek new Aston Martin parked a few meters in front of them. It’s pure sex in automotive form. He loves it immediately. “Q…” he manages. “It’s mine?”

“No, I built it for 002,” Q snorts derisively. “Obviously it’s yours. This model isn’t even available for sale yet, but I have my ways,” he smirks. “She can do zero to sixty in 3.2 seconds, but that’s not really why she’s special. She has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

“Show me,” James asks in a tone he generally reserves for begging during sex. He’s not sure what he wants more: the car, or for Q to fuck him in it. Or on it. He’s open to options, really.

“You’ve no idea how gorgeous you are right now,” Q muses, running a finger down James’ cheek then over his lips, humming in pleasure when James automatically sucks it in. “I rather adore it when you’re hot for my tech.”

“Do you?” James growls, letting the words rumble in his chest just the way he knows Q likes it. “Show me more, then.”

“Don’t move,” Q orders, stepping away so he can open the driver’s side door and get in. He flips switches and does something with hidden buttons beneath the steering wheel as he demonstrates and various compartments and guns open up all over the vehicle. “I’ll give you a manual, but here are the highlights. Machine guns of course, flamethrowers, smoke screen, only one missile so use it carefully, bulletproof of course, ejector seat for nostalgia’s sake, extra gun compartments...oh, and here’s what I really wanted to show you,” Q adds, his voice suddenly low and full of promise.

James finds he doesn’t want to fight his instinct at the tone, knowing Q will like it. He lets himself sink elegantly to his knees and looks up at Q expectantly as he rests his hands behind his back. “Please,” is all he says, swallowing hard at the hot and pleased look in Q’s eyes.

Q smiles a particularly wicked smile, one reserved entirely for James. “As if I could ever deny you,” he replies, reaching beneath the driver’s side wheel well to press a hidden button. Immediately, a set of mechanical arms with soft-looking cuffs attached descend from the wheel wells and wrap up and around to rest on the hood. “I think we’ll keep this particular innovation to ourselves,” he says as he crooks his finger invitingly.

James is on his feet immediately, his pulse quickening as a series of mental images flit across his mind. Will Q want him on his back or front? Or will Q want to be the one in cuffs? History tells him nothing, Q’s whims are varied but James has never been left disappointed. “I can keep a secret,” he promises, turning on his charm full-force though he knows he doesn’t need to. It amuses Q, which is motivation enough really.

“That you can” Q states in a tone that clearly conveys praise, leaning against the car and pulling James close. His hands slide beneath the suit coat. “I would very much like to test this feat of engineering out on you,” he breathes against James’ lips. “Say yes,” he encourages, knowing James will but needing to hear it all the same.

“Yes,” James breathes, wanting nothing more. This, here, is his safe haven. Here with Q, who will take charge, take care of him, make him forget everything else for a short while at least.

“You’re mine, tell me you’re mine,” Q orders, somehow managing not to sound like he’s begging for it.

“I’m yours, Q,” James promises. He still doesn’t know the man’s real name. Maybe someday he will, but there are many levels of trust and he’s satisfied with what he has. For now.

“Yes. And I take care of what’s mine,” Q promises in return. He reaches up and slides James’ suit coat off and drops it on the floor. “Come,” he says, grabbing James’ tie and pulling him around to the front of the car. He presses James back until he’s leaning back on the hood, arse just hanging off the front. “Perfect,” he praises, tapping once in the center of James’ chest to indicate he should stay. “Give me your left hand,” he orders.

James obeys immediately. The cuff Q snaps around his wrist is like nothing he’s ever felt before. It feels like some sort of rubber mixed with candy floss. It’s soft and flexible, but somehow durable. “What is it?” he asks, tugging experimentally.

“Just something I created for you,” Q smiles, winking as he attaches the other cuff. “ I imagine there are multiple more practical uses, I have my team working on marketing applications so the higher ups are satisfied with how I allocate my time and materials. Someone will but the patent I’m sure, but this is what I wanted. Comfortable, isn’t it?”

“Very,” James agrees. It really is. He doubts he’ll have visible marks, but the material definitely does not feel like it’s going to give. Contrary to what most people think given his history, he isn’t actually that into pain. The cuffs could just as easily have been metal, but this is just another of Q’s little ways of taking care of him.

“And now for my special touch,” Q says, leaning down over James and reaching out to hold the thin metal arms. “Skyfall,” he whispers, and the cuffs fall open. His expression turns pleased at James’ genuinely surprised reaction. “I want you to feel safe with me. Always.”

Rather than reply, James leans up to capture Q’s mouth for a kiss that turns rapidly intense and dirty and full of promise. That Q would create cuffs to fall open at his safeword...he feels an increasingly familiar rush of genuine affection. He supposes it could even be love, not that he’s ready to say that aloud. “Put them back on,” he finally manages, ready for whatever Q has planned.

Q complies, and then steps back to take in the view. “Very nice. Now, let’s see what your other new toys can do. Plenty of lethal things, obviously, but I’d like to think they have more subtle uses as well.” He reaches into his suit coat to pull a small item out of his pocket. It resembles a pen, only shorter.

“Does it explode?” James asks, unable to resist. Q still hasn’t made him an exploding pen, but he’s hopeful.

“Nothing so crass,” Q huffs, rolling his eyes. “Observe.” He presses a button on the side and nothing happens.

James cocks his head curiously, trying to see what he’s supposed to be seeing. There is a bit of what looks like a hazy area just over the tip, but it isn’t anything like a flame or red laser or anything else he’d expect. “And what am I seeing?”

“Very little, and that’s the point. I didn’t want it to draw attention. But…” With a rather wicked grin, Q leans over to place his left hand on the hood by James’ hip and with the device in his right hand he reaches out to run it slowly up from just above the cuff to James’ shoulder.

James shivers as a little tingle runs up his arm, and then sucks in a surprised breath when the material parts as if it’s been cut with a particularly sharp knife.

“Like it?” Q asks, looking pleased with himself.

“Definitely. What is it?” He shifts his hips as his cock begins to harden in his trousers while Q sets about gleefully slicing his way through what used to be a ridiculously expensive shirt. It’s worth it.

“Hmm, something complicated involving a particular frequency of laser that detects and avoids thermal radiation and will cut through just about anything else. For the next time you find yourself cuffed, or trapped, or need a less you way of breaking down a door.”

“Are you saying I’m getting too old to put my back into it?”

“I’m saying I rather like your back, and I’d prefer you use it for things like fucking me against a wall,” Q replies in a low voice, moving James’ tie out of the way so it can remain intact.

James squirms in the cuffs, a wave of arousal sparking through him. Q’s posh voice saying dirty things has become one of his favorite things. He really is anything but the proper young man most people think he is. But then, James really is anything like the soulless killer most people think he is either, so they fit together in ways only they understand. Which is all that really matters. “I’m a bit tied up for that, but next time, if that’s what you want. You do seem to get your way,” he adds in a tone that indicates he’s really fine with that.

“I do, don’t I? And what I want now, is to make sure whenever you’re in this car, you’re remembering this.” Q brushes the remaining bits of cloth away so James is naked from the waist up and reaches out to grab the tie. He pulls it hard, drawing James up as far as he can go and pressing their bodies together as he initiates a claiming sort of kiss. “You are mine, James, and you will come home to me. Always. Say it again.”

“I’ll come home. Always, Q. Because I’m yours,” James promises, even though he knows he’s probably lying. They both do. The fact that they know, that each encounter could very well be their last, lends a certain intensity to their lovemaking (James only calls it that in his head, but the term fucking isn’t right and sex is too simplistic). This time is no different, as Q presses James back to lie against the hood and proceeds to narrow James’ entire universe to this exact moment. It goes on and on, tiny nips and licks and the grounding drag of nails down unexpected areas of his skin. This sort of gentle pain, he loves. When Q is close and touching him, marking him, it feels like a gift. And with Q, he doesn’t have to worry the pain will turn into something that turns him cold and anxious and fighting it. Q would never strike him, even just with a playful spank. Would never use a whip, or hurt him from a distance. And that knowledge lets him fall into himself, into somewhere safe and warm and rare and perfect.

“Don’t come until I tell you to, Cielo,” Q whispers into James’ ear before taking a break to kiss him lazily as he runs a few fingers teasingly over the spit-slicked hole he’s been playing with and then up over the previously ignored erection.

James can only nod his assent, too content to even take the effort to form words. Of course he won’t. Not if Q says not to. Whatever Q says, he does, whether it’s here or in the field. It won’t be easy though, not when Q arranges James’ thighs to rest on his shoulders as he finally slides a few fingers inside and all James can do is writhe and float and make all the noises of appreciation he knows Q loves to hear. Q nips at his inner thighs, and uses his fingers and tongue until James thinks he might actually do something ridiculous like pass out from the effort of holding back the steadily-building orgasm. His thighs are trembling and he’s pulling at his cuffs, and it’s his mind fighting his body at this point but Q said no, and he can’t disappoint.

Q finally decides James has had enough, so he shifts and licks one gentle stripe up James’ dripping cock. “Now,” he orders, before swallowing James down as deeply as possible. Not two seconds later James is bucking and making this wonderfully obscene noise as Q gently swallows around him and then spends a few more seconds sucking lightly until he knows it is just this side of too much. “Skyfall,” he murmurs, easing James carefully down so Q’s back is to the car and James is cradled carefully in his arms on the pile of ruined clothing. Q kisses his hair and runs his hands gently over James’ sweat-damp skin, and makes hushing little sounds. “You were perfect, James. You're so good for me. Thank you, love,” he soothes, a quiet litany of praise as James slowly comes back to himself.

 _Love_. Q rarely calls him that, and only in moments like this. It makes it somehow even more genuine, and James- okay, he loves Q for it. He shifts to wrap his arms around Q’s waist and somehow gets even closer, letting himself just drift and be cared for. He’s not ready to return to reality just yet. He likes it here, wishes he could stay, knows he can’t. It’s not until Q angles his face up to lick a single tear out of the corner of his eye that James even realizes it’s there. Before he can come up with an excuse for the display of weakness, Q lays a finger across his lips.

“No. I you to give me everything, not simply the gorgeous noises you make during sex, or your submission, or your anger after a mission gone bad. Never hide from me, James.” That’s all he says, and all he will. He won’t push anything. It’s enough. He pulls James back against his chest, and they do not speak.

James lets out the breath he’d been holding, and lets his eyes drift closed. He thinks _I love you_ , and stays silent. Someday he’ll say it aloud. Maybe next time. Or the time after that. Yes, maybe then, he makes a mental promise. Because he is Q’s, and he will always come home. He promises himself that as well, and tries to convince himself it’s the truth.

Hours later when they’re up and moving, Q shows him the compartment beneath the rear seat that houses a fresh suit.

“Because you’re always ruining yours,” Q says teasingly, eyeing the tatters on the floor.

“Very practical,” James approves with a wry smile. “Is there one for you as well? You know, just in case…”

“Hmm, I’ll save that for next time. Incentive for you not to completely destroy her,” Q replies with a wink. “Shall we go home?”

“Home,” James agrees. He slides the laser pen into his pocket as he dresses. Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay that got more bittersweet than I'd planned. Possibly this requires a sequel to fix it...


End file.
